


The Gift of Great Price

by aleighcarlisle



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Gift of the Magi Re-write, Romance, christmas in july
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7508367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleighcarlisle/pseuds/aleighcarlisle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the 1906 American short story, "Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry. Set in 19th century England in a small village outside London, Doctor John Smith and his beloved Rose face the long and cold winter days leading up to Christmas wondering how they could ever afford a gift for one other.</p><p>*Posted last year on another fanfiction website, wanted to add it here on AO3. A Christmas in July, if you will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

He could see his breath against the cold air as he waited for an answer to his incessant knocking.

He pounded his fist once more against the makeshift door. The hastily built entrance looked as if a gust of wind might knock it down were it not for the rusty hinges keeping it still. As he turned his back to the door he heard it open with a groan from days of little use. A haggard face peered out and steely eyes caught his gaze.

"Doctor?"

John bounced from one foot to the other trying to keep warm. "I'm not leaving, Wilf, you might as well open the door. It's bloody freezing out here, least you could do is invite me in for a cuppa."

The door swung open with no reply from the old man. John looked about the tiny home, barely big enough to fit more than a few people at once. Sparsely decorated, it boasted nothing more than an old bed, a wood burning stove, wash basin, and a small table.

John cupped his hands and brought them to his mouth, hoping to warm them with the heat of his breath. Wilf lowered himself onto the bed with much effort.

"I told you there's nothing you can do. I don't know why you bother with an old codger like me. You needn't worry yourself."

"Oi, you think I'm here 'cause I'm worried, do you? Fancy that. I thought you knew, I'm just here for rousing conversation. Can't get enough of it, me."

Wilf began to crack a smile when he bent over in a fit of coughs. John put a hand to his back to help him sit up and placed pressure with his other hand to the old man's chest. As the coughing subsided, John looked through his bag and pulled out a stethoscope.

"Mind if I listen for a tic?"

Before waiting for an answer, John placed the cold metal to Wilf's lower right side.

"Deep breaths, in and out, please."

Wilf complied and tried not to wince with the sharp pain of each labored breath. He looked at the Doctor's eyes as he listened. Concern and frustration written on his face.

"When did the coughing worsen?" the Doctor asked, his voice quiet and gentle as he moved the scope over his chest.

"A few days ago, I reckon. There's pain now, not just when I cough, but when I breathe. It's no matter, I haven't got much life left to live anyway, spent most of the years I did have drunk and alone, I did. No one to grieve this old sod now."

The Doctor smiled widely despite the dark tone of conversation.

"Well, since we've dispensed with the pleasantries, how about that cuppa?"

Wilf slowly walked to the stove to warm the kettle. "I've the loveliest rosehip herbs for tea. A lovely yellow haired lass was kind enough to share it with me. Said that a good cup of tea was…it was..." Wilf closed his eyes, looking perplexed as he tried to remember the exact words.

John grinned broadly with a slight blush to his cheeks. "Super-heated infusion of free radicals and tannin, just the thing for healing the synapses. That right?"

Wilf laughed at the ease of his response. "Oi, so I'm not the only one to be on the receiving end of the wiles of the lovely Rose? You know of her, do you?"

John ran his fingers over the cold metal on his left ring finger as he raised his brows and lowered his voice as though sharing a great secret, "I might have had the honor of sharing her company a time or two. Though I see now I'm not the only bloke who strikes her fancy."

Wilf smiled sadly, "She needn't waste her time with me. Bit of a long walk for that fragile girl to make just to bring a spot of tea. You'll thank her for me, won't you Doctor?"

"I certainly can, Wilf. Though I'm sure you'll be able to tell her yourself the next time she comes by."

After finishing his tea in silent company, John found himself at the door, feeling the draft seep through the cracks. His gaze upon Wilf turning more serious.

"When your chest begins to tighten or you find your cough overwhelming, take a little walk. The cold air will do you good."

He pulled a small bag and vial from his pocket and placed it in Wilf's hands. "Peppermint leaves. You can put them in your tea or chew on the leaves. Might help clear the sinuses and congestion in the lungs a bit. Take a small spoonful of the syrup twice a day, should help with the sharp pain in the throat when you cough."

Wilf looked at him sadly, "I have nothing to pay you with, Doctor."

John placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a great smile.

"A warm respite from the blistering cold, and a hot cup of tea, well that's as good a payment as any. I wish there was more I could do."

Wilf shook his head silently, his eyes glassy with emotion. "You've done more than enough."

John's eyes grew sad in response, "It's my pleasure."

The old man cleared his throat to fend off the heaviness of emotion he was feeling. "Now, you best get going before that lovely lass starts thinking you've lost your way home."

* * *

John pulled the collar of his long brown coat up as the wind whipped coldly against his face. He'd foolishly forgotten his scarf when he left before the sun came up this morning. He reached into the pocket of his pinstriped waistcoat and felt the familiar comfort of metal. He could feel the circular etchings as he traced the pattern with his thumb. As he pulled the ancient time-piece out he couldn't help but note the scratches and nicks from years of use.

The only part of his family he had left, this watch. His father had carried it with him when he had visited his own patients, a reminder of sorts of the precious time that was given to each one, some passing more quickly than others.

John placed the pocket watch back into his jacket. His father would never approve of his life choices were he still alive. John was brilliant, just like him. But there was one major difference between the two of them. Jameson Smith had been a renowned doctor in London. Ahead of his time in his knowledge of medical procedures and treatment of foreign ailments. But he was all knowledge and no compassion. He sought success for the accolades, not for the health of his patients.

And here John was, as his father would say, "Wasting your abilities on crofters and peasants, accepting payments of chickens and stout mead when you should be working in a proper hospital, an environment fit for a real physician, with patients who actually contribute to society."

Deluded, his father was, but he still loved him so, and missed him more than he could express. John breathed deeply and hurried along the path, noting the sun beginning to set, for soon the cold would really set in and darkness would fall.

* * *

Small wisps of golden hair tickled Rose's lips as they escaped from underneath the scarf atop her head. She blew the hair back from her face as she continued to chop wood for the stove. The temperature was going to drop, she could feel it in her joints. Her right foot protested each time she stepped forward to bring the axe down upon the splinters of wood. She knew she'd overdone it.

Seen as nothing more than an invalid for most of her life, she'd spent years trying to prove she was anything but. Miraculously surviving a wagon accident at the tender age of 6, Rose had not only lost mobility in her foot, she had lost both of her parents, as well. With limited medical care her foot was treated but not healed. For the rest of her life she would suffer pain every time she took a step, and marked as a cripple by her uneven gait.

Taking on small tasks in the village was all Rose knew how to do. Lacking a formal education, she'd spent her life in the homes of strangers treated as a mere servant. She made a meager wage doing the wash and sewing for the older women in the community whose hands had grown weak and frail. She also assisted the Doctor whenever she could, helping him care for the sick when the journey wasn't too far.

Rose was pulled from her musing by the sound of small footsteps behind her.

A timid little voice spoke, "Hello, Miss Rose."

A shy smile was hidden behind a mop of curly black hair.

Rose smiled brightly, "Chloe, what are you doing out here, and without your mum?"

Chloe's eyes filled with tears.

Rose stepped forward dropping the wood and kneeled in front of her cupping her little cheeks in her palms.

"What's wrong, luv?" she asked as she wiped a stray tear from the child's face.

Her lips quivered as she spoke, "Miss Rose, I did something bad. Mum's going to be so cross."

Rose gave her a little squeeze on the shoulder, "Now, it can't be all that bad. Nothing we can't set to rights."

The little girl pulled a beautiful ivory shawl from behind her back. "Mum wears it every Christmas, because it reminds her of my Gran. I just wanted to try it on for a little bit."

Rose turned the shawl over in her hands to find a large hole in the shoulder. She looked up at the girl for an explanation.

"I got it caught on the fence post when I was coming back in the house from feeding the chickens. Everyone says that you're the best for mendin', and I just thought you could help me. Can you fix it Miss Rose?"

Rose knew how hard Chloe's mum worked to provide for her only daughter, all while overcoming the loss of her husband years back.

"I reckon, I can do my best," she said as she smiled at the girl, "but you still need to tell your mum you took her shawl, and that I'm going to mend it for her. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes ma'am," she replied quietly. Chloe put her hand in her pocket and began to pull out a coin.

Before she could hand it to her, Rose took the girl's hand and folded it back over the piece of precious metal.

"You keep it, luv."

She smiled brightly and thanked Rose with a hug. A loud growl sounded from the girl's stomach. Both her and Rose giggled.

"Wait right here, I might have something to take care of that."

Rose came back out with a small bowl covered with a cloth napkin. From underneath she pulled out a warm biscuit.

"Now, you can have this for your walk home. But the rest is for your mum. Mrs. Blackwell gave the Doctor these beautiful parsnips when he looked after her son after his fall last week. I think your mum might be able to use them in a lovely Christmas stew, don't you think?"

The girl nodded, already munching on her biscuit.

"Happy Christmas, Miss Rose."

"Happy Christmas, Chloe. Now run along before it gets dark."

Rose watched as the girl hurried home with her precious gift in hand, not turning around until the child was out of sight.

* * *

As she went to collect the wood she saw that someone else was already picking it up to bring inside. She met his eyes and gave him a tired smile.

Rose leaned up on her tip toes and kissed him gently, lingering in her tiredness. Opening her eyes she saw him grinning at her.

"Oi! You wait until my hands are full to do that!" he winked at her as he stacked the wood inside the door.

He leaned down and returned the kiss before grabbing her hand.

"Fancy a short walk, love?" he whispered as he pushed back the scarf from her head and wrapped his fingers in the soft golden curls.

Rose placed a hand on top of his to still its movement. She knew it was a comfort to him. Whenever he was anxious or overwhelmed he would pour out his heart to her as he ran his hands through her hair, as if it was a balm that could heal his pain.

Rose knew that a walk would worsen the pain in her foot, but she could not deny him such a request. Not when he lacked his usual spirited and carefree countenance. By now his mouth should be running a mile a minute, telling her outlandish stories of his day, not tempered and still as it was now.

She nodded with a small smile.

"Of course, just let me run and get my cover up."

* * *

John watched as she came from their room in her threadbare shawl. The edges were badly frayed and there were small holes throughout. He saw her look to the floor and wince as she walked closer to him, attempting to hide her pain.

"All set!" she stated as she poked her tongue against her cheek in an exaggerated smile.

"How bad is it, Rose?" he asked gently.

"How bad is what?" she replied, begging him with her eyes to let it go.

He had learned a long time ago that Rose knew her limits. She also had a bad habit of never letting on about how badly she was hurting. But he knew better than to coddle her, as that was the last thing she ever wanted from him.

He wiggled his fingers as an invitation. "Shall we go then?"

Rose nodded in silence as she put her hand into his.

He grinned madly.

"Allons-y!"


	2. Chapter 2

Rose pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders as the cold breeze seeped through her dress. She leaned heavily against John, curling her hand around his arm. She was content to walk in silence, knowing he would speak when he was ready.

As she looked out into the dusk, a thin line of orange was the only light separating the sky from the land. The cold, barren landscape could be described as desolate, and despairing, but Rose thought it was strangely beautiful.

John leaned his head down close to hers, "I had a lovely cup of tea this evening," he said with a grin, "tasted just like the kind my wife makes me when I'm sick."

Rose smiled sweetly as she leaned against him. "How is Wilf? He had a bit of a cough last time I saw him."

The silence following her question worried her. John continued to walk, staring at the ground. She stopped and tugged his hand so he would look at her.

"John, what is it? What's wrong?"

"He's dying, Rose," he answered in a small voice barely above a whisper.

"He's got pneumonia, and it will only get worse. And I can't do anything for him." John pulled Rose against him, gripping the fabric of her dress tightly as he tucked his head into her neck.

She could feel his voice muffled against her skin as he spoke. "What good am I, Rose? What good is it being a physician when I can't even offer relief to the very people who depend on me to give it to them?"

Rose barely heard him when he spoke under his breath, "Maybe he was right."

Rose knew it was only a matter of time before he had brought this up again. John felt the pain of every patient personally. He believed that it was solely up to him whether each one survived. More than that was the voice of criticism in his head; the voice of his father. Rose had never met him, but she knew enough from John to know that he didn't agree with the path his son had chosen. It was becoming a pattern. Every time John was faced with a medical emergency beyond his control, he questioned his place as a travelling doctor. John seemed to believe that if he had chosen to work in the city, like his father desired, these things wouldn't happen. Instead of feeling compassion towards him, Rose became upset.

She pulled away sharply, eyebrows raised at John's response. "Talking about your father, are you? You think you'd be better off away from here, do you? Away from this life, away from me?"

"No, love, I didn't mean…" John tried to explain.

"Don't you, though? If you just had access to a hospital, to medicines, to money, it would all be okay, right? That what you think?" Her eyes shining with tears. She knew in the back of her mind that she was acting this way out of tiredness. She was being irrational, and exposing the insecurities in her heart.

John looked at her, wondering how to fix this. "I just meant, did we make a mistake? We both run ourselves ragged and we have nothing to show for it."

He ran his fingers over the holes in Rose's cover-up. "I can't even afford to keep you properly dressed. You deserve better than this."

Rose spoke up, "You don't hear me complainin' do you?"

"No, of course not, it's just..."

"Just what, John? I chose this life, remember? Better or worse, richer or poorer."

John laughed sadly, "Well, poorer you got, didn't you?"

Rose grabbed his chin painfully in her hand and forced him to look at her.

"Do you remember when we first met? The first conversation we ever had?"

John smiled softly. "You asked me why I chose to be a travelling doctor."

"And your answer?"

John thought back to the day he met his precious girl.

* * *

_It was his first year out of medical school and he had decided to venture out into the countryside east of London. There were not many doctors settled in the small villages, save for a few herbalists. He had only treated the poverty stricken citizens of the country on the rare occasion they made a trip to the city. John thought it might be wise to go where they were. Word of mouth had spread that a doctor would be seeing patients, but he was surprised to see so few people had made the trek. He had been finishing up treating an elderly woman who had been suffering from gout when he saw her. Dirty blonde hair had escaped the pins she had used to make herself look presentable. She wore a brown dress with a white pinafore tied across the front. Second-hand clothing that should have seen its demise long ago. Her beautiful face and nervous smile looked years beyond their age. Worry lines and pain marred her skin as she nervously waited until he finished._

" _Hello, Miss?"_

" _Tyler."_

_He stepped closer to her and stretched out a hand. "It's a pleasure, Miss Tyler. I'm Doctor John Smith."_

_Rose blushed shyly, uncertain of herself._

_Doctor Smith's eyes were kind, encouraging her to speak._

" _I, um. I've been having a bit of pain in my foot from a childhood injury and thought maybe you could take a look at it." Her eyes were trained on the ground waiting for his response._

" _Of course! Just have a seat and put your foot up and we'll have a look see."_

_The doctor pulled a footstool in front of her and tapped it with his hand. Rose nervously propped her foot up but it was still hidden beneath the folds of her skirt and work boots._

" _No need to be nervous, Miss Tyler, I promise I won't hurt you." John gestured to her foot to ask permission. "May I?"_

_Rose nodded her head._

_John lifted the ripped edges of her skirt up above the ankle. He gently untied the laces. He watched her face as he did so, noticing the look of pain each time he tugged on a lace. He slowly slipped the boot from her foot as a tear tracked down her face. He stopped to give her time to regain her composure._

" _I'm sorry," she whispered, as she dashed the tears away with her hand._

" _You've no need to apologize, Miss Tyler."_

" _It's Rose. Just call me Rose. Miss Tyler makes me sound like an old maid." She smiled as she looked up at him._

" _Well we can't have that. Rose Tyler, it is." He gave her a dazzling smile._

_John removed the stocking from her foot and felt himself go pale. He could now see why she was in such pain. What he could not understand was how she was even walking. Her foot was turned at an awkward angle, with the side of her foot bearing all of the weight. He saw large scars left by poorly sewn stitches._

" _It's hideous, I know." Rose whispered._

_John realized in his shock he must have been silent for a long while, leaving her to believe he had been horrified with her disfigured foot._

" _Oh, Rose. I'm so sorry. I was just wondering how you can even walk. How long has it been like this?"_

" _14 years or so. It was caught underneath the weight of a wagon. Me mum and dad died, but I survived. I guess this was my life-long reminder of that fact." She spoke with little emotion._

_He couldn't imagine the loneliness Rose had felt for so much of her life. Left an orphan at such a young age and then made to suffer such a painful physical ailment._

" _Who treated this when it happened?" He questioned._

" _It was a few days before anyone found us. We were travelling off the main road, so no one noticed the accident. I was taken to a country doctor. I was asleep for most of it, and it was so long ago. But they told me that he cleaned it, stitched it up, and put a brace on it."_

_Rose looked up to John's horrified face. "No one took you to a doctor to have it operated on?"_

" _I was just an orphaned child, why would they? I'm surprised they took me to an orphanage. Could have just left me, you know?"_

_John didn't know what to say. She could have been angry. She had lost her mum and dad, and had suffered greatly, but she wasn't bitter. She seemed to just take it in stride._

" _Do you mind if I examine it? I'll be as gentle as possible." His hands hovered above her fragile foot._

_Rose nodded._

_John began to gently press along the side of her foot, watching her face every few seconds for any sign of pain. As he ran his finger along her arch she whimpered._

" _I'm sorry," he whispered, "Rose, I'm afraid to say that there isn't much I can do other than treat the pain you're suffering from. I think the bones in your foot were most likely shattered in places, and due to the lack of medical treatment, they fused themselves back together on their own. Other than major orthopedic surgery, there's nothing that can be done."_

_Rose smiled at him. "S'alright. I wasn't expecting you to be able to miraculously heal me."_

_He looked at her as his mind raced a mile a minute._

" _I'll tell you what, Rose. Would you be all right if I measured your foot and made a mold from it?"_

_Rose raised an eyebrow in curiosity._

" _I just think that maybe I could provide you with a brace of sorts that would fit into a special shoe. It would take a bit of the pressure off your foot and give you a more even gait. It might even help take away any leg or hip pain you might experience as well."_

_Rose looked at him with unshed tears in her eyes. "You'd do that for me?"_

_John smiled and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand in an attempt to hide his blush._

_Rose pulled something out of the small bag she had brought with her. It was an envelope. "I know it's not much, but it's everything I've saved over the last few years of work. Mrs. Geary doesn't pay her maids much, but I tried to keep as much put back as I could in case I ever got an opportunity like this."_

_John didn't know what to say. Here was this woman, ready and willing to trust him and hand over her life savings for whatever he could do for her. He thought of the ease of which he was paid by his clients in the city. There was no sacrifice or gratitude. They just handed him the amount he asked for without a second glance._

" _Rose, I couldn't take this, it's all you have." He pushed her hands away._

" _Please, you don't understand. I have to do this. I can't just accept help without paying my way."_

_John looked at the tenacious young woman before him, knowing he was not going to win this battle. He nodded and held out his hand to accept her meager offering._

_She smiled broadly, looking very pleased with herself._

" _If you like, I can come back with the necessary supplies next week, and we can get started."_

_Rose's smile lit up the room. She looked as if she'd been given the greatest gift in the world._

" _But before you go, I'd like to put a poultice on your foot, and wrap it, to help with the pain in the meantime. If that's alright?"_

" _Of course."_

_John quickly mixed the oils and herbs and gently rubbed them onto her foot. He didn't dare look up at her for fear he'd blush. He'd just met this girl and he was already smitten. He didn't know what was wrong with him. As he was wrapping the cloth around her foot, Rose spoke quietly, "So what made you decide to be a travelling doctor?"_

_John thought about her question for a few seconds before answering. "Well, sometimes the doctor's in London can be a bit stuffy. I find many of them are looking out for their own interests, not their patients. More than that, I guess I just noticed that there were so many people living out here in the villages who worked harder than anyone I knew in the city, but they had nothing to show for it. They have no money, no large home, or common amenities, but they're content, happy even, living a simple life. And then there are people like you, Rose Tyler," she blushed at the sound of her name on his lips, "people who need medical care and have no access to it, through no fault of their own. I guess, I want to be able to provide that to them, in a way that is affordable and accessible."_

_He finished wrapping her foot and helped her pull her worn boot back over her foot._

" _I'm not sure why I haven't met many people. I haven't scared anyone away have I?"_

_Rose smiled softly. "No, it's just that people here aren't used to seeing a doctor, and many of them don't stray too far from their homes."_

_John looked to the ground before he posed his next question._

" _Rose, would you mind, when I come back next week, if you're not busy," he stumbled over his words, uncertain of how she would react to what he was going to ask, "would you be able to take me around to visit people in their homes?" His words came out in such a rush, she could barely understand him._

_No more than a second after the words left his lips, she answered, "I'd love to."_

" _Great, that's fantastic, I can't thank you enough."_

_Rose stood to leave. Her foot was already feeling the relief from his treatment._

" _I can't thank you enough for everything, Doctor."_

" _John. You can call me John."_

_Rose blushed._

_She took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Thank you, John."_

" _You're most welcome, Rose Tyler. Until next time."_

* * *

John looked down at his precious wife, scolding himself for forgetting why he had chosen this life in the first place. He kissed her slowly, hoping to convey his love for her.

"Forgive me."

Rose kissed him back. "There's nothing to forgive, luv."

John tugged her hand and pulled her close, taking her weight so she could rest her foot. "Let's go home."

* * *

Rose pulled the pins out of her hair allowing it to cascade down her back. It was longer now than it had ever been. The golden tresses stopped at the small of her back. As she sat on the bed she bit back a groan as she lifted her sore foot onto the bed. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, catching her breath and willing the pain the go away. Rose bit her lip as the pain threatened to overwhelm her.

Cool hands gently touched her foot. John began his familiar ministrations that had become so familiar to her. His thumb applied pressure along her arch eliciting a whimper from her lips.

"Shh, it's alright love." John hated seeing her like this. Such a strong woman, his Rose, but so fragile at the same time.

John rubbed her foot with a salve he had heated on the cook stove just minutes prior. As he was finishing up he felt her eyes on him.

He looked up with a smile only to see her eyes full of tears.

"Rose, am I hurting you? Why didn't you tell me?" He asked in a panic.

Rose shook her head to dispel his fears.

"What is it?"

She smiled through her tears. "It's nothing. Just love you is all."

John crawled up beside her and gathered her up in his arms. He laid there with her for a long while, their small home quiet except for the contented sighs of his wife as he ran his hands through her hair.

"Rose. I'm going to London tomorrow."

His words were met with silence. Fearing she had fallen asleep, he looked down, only to find her eyes questioning him.

"Why?"

"I'm low on supplies, and I just thought I could take a quick trip before the weather turned bad." He knew Rose wouldn't question him further, but he also knew what she was thinking. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and she feared he'd get stuck and unable to make it back to her. He knew Christmas was special to her, as she was never able to celebrate it as a child.

"I think maybe I can get a few things that will make Wilf comfortable."

Rose kissed him on the cheek. "I'll have your things ready first thing in the morning."

And there it was. No questions asked. So selfless, his Rose. She'd sacrifice anything to help someone who was hurting, even if it meant she'd be hurt as a result. Little did she know, his trip to London was for more than just medical supplies. He hoped to find something for his precious girl for Christmas. Something that would remind her just how special she was to him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was mid-afternoon by the time John made it to the outskirts of London. He and Rose had no access to a wagon, so walking was the primary mode of transportation. On the off chance a local resident was travelling in or out of the village, one could hitch a ride, but those opportunities were few and far between. It had snowed from the time he left, turning a normally three hour journey into five.

Rose had bid him farewell early that morning, having already gathered his things for him and sent him off with a long kiss and promise to keep safe. He had no idea how long she had already been up, but she had already made breakfast, brewed tea, packed his belongings, and finished mending a shawl for a little village girl. He hoped to finish his errands as soon as possible so he could get home at a decent hour to be with his Rose.

Thankfully, the establishment John was heading for was not far from the main entrance road. A friend of his who had graduated from medical school around the same time as him was a successful apothecary, finding herbal and chemical compounds to be more of a passion than general practice. Jack was one of the few friends he had made and kept in London, one of the few who respected his choice of profession.

John looked up at a new sign above the door.

Jack Mercer

Apothecary

"HEALING TONICS AND EXOTIC ELIXERS

FOR ALL MANNER OF MEDICAL MALADIES"

John opened the door and was thankful for the warmth that enveloped him as he entered. A small bell jingled as he walked through the threshold, notifying the owner of his entrance. John walked further into the shop, seeing steam rise from a table near the back. He wrinkled his nose at the assault of smells on his nose. Lavender and cedar oils mixed with the putrid smell of a recently butchered animal. Vials of medicinal substances lined the shelves. Powders and pills, herbs and minerals, all neatly displayed in a row. Various types of medical equipment lay strewn on the counter. Sharp knives and a mallet used for cutting and crushing, and most interestingly, tools for skinning animals, perhaps to use the skin or fat for making ointments and supplements.

As he turned to the back counter he saw Jack working on a formula of sorts. He looked every bit the part of an evil genius. Hair sticking out in all directions, stains covering his apron, and thick glasses perched on the end of his nose. John watched in amazement as Jack carefully added a brown, muddied liquid to boiling water. As the steam rose from the glass beaker, John could smell the earthy aroma of a spruce tree, fresh and fragrant. He had three vials on the table which he could only guess were being used to separate the oils and resin from some type of plant. A fine white powder took up residence in a mortar not far from him, its pestle nearby. Jack wiped the condensation from his thick glasses and without looking up yelled brashly toward John.

"Not many people brave enough to be out in this weather, and at Christmas no less. Can't imagine what anyone would be needin' that badly."

John smiled and shouted back, "Oi, I guess I'll have to find another, more accommodating apothecary to replenish my supplies."

Jack dropped the metal spoon he had been using to stir the mixture. He wiped sweat from his brow and took off his glasses. He laughed loudly as his eyes settled upon John.

"Why, if it isn't the travelling doctor! I was beginning to think you had gotten yourself lost out in the woods. Haven't seen you in an age it seems."

John looked around the shop as he answered, "I've been attempting to make medicines and remedies myself since I don't have the time to run up here every week."

Jack smiled and narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure it's a lack of time that keeps you from London, and not those stuffy physicians who ran you off all those years ago," He lowered his voice and smirked, "or perhaps it's that bonny lass that's got you occupied. I've never met this mystery woman, by the way. I'm starting to doubt her existence."

"I'm just smart enough to keep her away from the likes of you. I've got a reputation to uphold and I can't have you tarnishing it by telling my wife a load of rubbish about my college days."

Jack winked at him, "I'd only tell her the good things."

"Joking aside, I have a favor to ask of you. I have a friend back in the village who's suffering from complications of pneumonia and I'm wondering if you have anything I can give him that might make him more comfortable?"

Jack nodded and gestured with his hands at the vials in front of him. "You see this mixture here? It's called Frankincense Papyifera, just got some Bosweila Neglecta branches a few days ago from a friend traveling from Africa. Its properties can be made into a paste and applied to the chest in order to break up phlegm and cause productive coughs in patients. If you think it would be beneficial, I can also add eucalyptus and chamomile to help them sleep."

John looked at him gratefully. "Something like this would be fantastic. When will it be ready?"

"Another hour or so and I can have it bottled up. Do you need your usual order of antiseptics, and pain medications, as well?"

"If it isn't too much trouble. I have another errand to run, but can be back in the next hour to pick up the order."

Jack nodded and gestured to the small fire in the stove at the back of the room. "You might warm yourself for a bit before you continue on your journey. You look as though you've walked the entire way."

John grinned shyly.

"You did walk the whole way, didn't you?"

John could only nod as he warmed himself by the fire to ward off the tremendous chill from his wet clothes.

"Always thought you were crazy. Running off into unknown territory with nothing but the clothes on your back and a medical bag. You've gained my respect, John Smith. You remind me of why I decided to spend my life making medicines."

Jack walked over to John and put a hand on his shoulder. "When you come back up to get your things, I'll have my wagon hitched up. I'll be happy to give you a lift back home."

"You do realize you would be out after nightfall?"

"Well, I do happen to have some business to attend to about 15 miles past your little village. Might as well leave a bit early. So, it isn't out of my way if that's your concern."

"I can't thank you enough," he replied as he reached out to shake Jack's hand. John reached into his bag and drew out a small amount of money. "This is all I have, not nearly enough to pay you for your generosity."

Jack laughed loudly, "Oh, never you mind, I make enough money selling medicine to those stuffy old hospital doctors to keep me in business. They wouldn't dare waste their precious time making their own."

John bid him farewell and promised to return after his errand.

* * *

John found himself in an old jewelry shop about a half-hour away. He had remembered it as the place his dad always took his watch to have it repaired. It had not changed in the many years it had been since he'd last step foot inside. It was a shop run by old money, only those with deep pockets ever dreamed to darken its doors. It was decorated with rows of greenery and scented candles. It was just as he remembered, beautiful, and expensive. He walked over to a glass case containing beautiful women's jewelry, but none of them looked like his Rose. Oh, she deserved the finest of diamonds, but he knew she would never comfortably wear such things, not when so many others went without. Passing up the gaudy jewelry, John found himself looking at a beautiful set of hair combs. Oh how lovely Rose would look with them. Her hair was her glory, and they would look magnificent against her golden hair. The base was sterling, shining beautifully. On the top it was adorned with three glass flowers, pink roses, to be exact. Each flower had been uniquely shaped and were surrounded by gold trim.

The store owner approached him.

"Looking for a gift for your lovely wife, I presume?" The owner undoubtedly had no interest in his wife, but his pocketbook.

"This is our finest set of combs, just shipped in from France. I hear that the glass makers form each petal individually and meticulously shape them into delicate flowers. They are hand-painted by the finest artists in Paris. A fine gift for a beautiful English rose."

The owner had no idea how true his words were. John searched his pockets, knowing that the mere change inside would never be enough to pay for such elegant things. John's hand brushed against his father's pocket watch. He took it out and traced the circular pattern that adorned the front for the hundredth time. So comforting to him, the last piece of his family.

But it wasn't really. Rose was his family now. Here he was clinging so desperately to a cold metal timepiece, hoping it could somehow offer him the love and acceptance he never received from his father. Yet at home he had his precious girl, offering every bit of love and acceptance he could ever need or hope for.

John placed the watch on the glass case as he looked at the owner. "Would you be interested in a trade?"

The owner looked at the watch in awe and his eyes displayed shock. "You do know how valuable this watch is, sir? It's over…"

"I know what it is, and how much its worth, but you didn't answer my question. Would you be interested in a trade?"

"But of course, sir. Let me draw up the paperwork." The store owner hurriedly left the room to collect his purchase and fawn over his newly acquired timepiece.

John felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps the weight of his father's judgment and expectation was now gone. John could be the doctor he always wanted to be.

As the store owner returned and he signed the paperwork, a small parcel was placed in his hands containing the set of three exceptionally beautiful combs. Not as beautiful as his Rose, but stunning just the same.

John bid the owner goodbye and hurried back out into the frigid London air. He would head back to pack up his supplies from Jack, and hopefully make it back home before Rose began to worry.

* * *

Rose was already exhausted and it was only mid-afternoon. She had risen early, around four in the morning in order to finish mending the shawl for Chloe. After fixing breakfast, seeing John off on his trip, and dropping of the shawl with Chloe's mum, she was completely exhausted. Walking with a weak foot was bad enough when the weather was nice, but trudging through the snow tended to complicate things.

John had made her a special pair of shoes long ago that allowed her to walk with less pain, but they weren't practical for the winter months. She hated to bother him with such a request, so she just stuffed her feet into her regular boots and tried to ignore the pain. It didn't help that she had decided to visit Wilf on a whim. She was worried about him, after John confided in her about his condition. He told her he had been taking the medicine John had given him and was feeling a bit better, but he really looked and sounded terrible. Rose had made him a cuppa and tucked him in. She was certain that John would check on him when he returned, so she didn't worry about him being alone for too long.

Her feet were so cold she couldn't feel them. At this point it was probably for the best. Rose had one last destination in mind before she went home to settle in for the night. After John had left, she couldn't help but think about what she could give him for Christmas. So selfless, he was. When he wasn't walking mile after mile each day visiting patients he was taking care of her. Sometimes she felt like she had robbed him of a fantastic life. John could be a renowned doctor, owning his own practice and traveling the world. But he had chosen a simple life, with her. She had thought long and hard about a gift for John, but everything she could think of cost more than they had to spare. There was only one thing left she could do, and she hoped she was making the right decision.

When Rose worked for Mrs. Geary, some of the other girls found alternative means of making extra money. They spoke of a woman who lived deep in the woods. She was a collector of sorts, mysterious, and a bit of a hermit. The girls would sell anything of value to her in exchange for money or other goods. Rose had once heard them call her a gypsy, but the name always sounded derogatory to her. She had once asked John and he had talked at length about the Romani people who originated in India, lived as nomads, and were heavily persecuted by almost every country they settled in.

She was certain she was walking in the right direction, though it was hard to tell in the freshly fallen snow. A few miles beyond the small village Rose came to a small home on wheels. Smoke puffed from a metal pipe at the peak of the structure. It looked as if it had once been pulled by a team of horses, and had been a beautiful shade of red. Paint chipped from the wooden slats and rust covered the metal bars that once bore its weight during travel. Rose stood nervously in the garden, second guessing her decision.

She tentatively knocked on the door. A few moments later the door opened to reveal a breathtakingly beautiful woman with piercing green eyes, olive skin, and long raven hair. Without question she beckoned Rose in with the wave of her hand, no doubt certain as to the reasoning for her visit. As she stepped into the home she was surprised at the sheer amount of treasures. Jewelry and scarves, dresses and trinkets lined the small room. It seemed that this woman had traveled the world and collected objects of importance along the way. The woman pointed to herself and said, "Viola." She then pointed to Rose.

"I'm Rose." Both women laughed at the uncanny realization that both were named after flowers.

Viola lifted her hand to gesture around her. "Do you wish to buy like the others?"

Rose nodded in answer and looked toward Viola in an attempt to gain permission to browse. She opened her hands to Rose, "Please."

Rose touched beautiful silk blouses, and animal skin tapestries as she made her way through the large collection. As she looked at the jewelry, something caught her eye. A beautiful silver chain and clip hung from a hook on the wall. It was made to attach to a pocket watch and the clip to adhere to a man's waistcoat. It was in perfect shape, simple, and would look lovely attached to John's watch. He would look like a proper doctor and be able to protect the last possession that remained of his family. Rose may not have been raised with expensive things, but she knew this was no cheap trinket.

Rose held the precious metal in her hand and lifted it toward Viola.

"It once belonged to a very rare timepiece. For someone you love?"

Rose nodded.

"It is very costly. Do you wish to buy or trade?"

Rose had heard from the girls she used to work with about the many things Viola would accept for trade. There was very little that she owned that one would deem of value. She knew that it didn't matter the cost, or what she had to sacrifice, John was worth anything she could give and more.

Rose pulled the scarf from her head and placed it on a nearby table. She slowly pulled out all of the pins she had meticulously placed in her hair early that morning. Her long curls fell down in waves covering her back like a shield. She bowed her head toward the woman. Viola stepped forward to inspect the offering. Her hands ran through the curls feeling their softness and noticing its thickness. The golden-honey color shone in the firelight, a heavy contrast to Viola's own tresses.

"It is very beautiful. Will sell for much money."

Rose asked quietly, "Is it enough for the silver chain?"

Viola nodded. "It is fair trade."

Rose sat quietly in a nearby chair with the chain wrapped tightly around her fingers. She could see the light reflecting off of the dull scissors in Viola's hands. She waited for Rose to give her permission to begin. Rose smiled weakly and Viola started the laborious process of cutting the thick hair. With a ribbon tied around its length to hold the strands together, Rose heard the sound of metal slicing through her locks. With each pass she could feel her head become lighter and lighter. Lost in her thoughts, Rose had not noticed the woman had finished and was placing her precious hair on the table. Lifting her hand to her head, Rose felt the uneven ends. Her now short, wavy hair fell just below her ears at its longest. With tears clouding her eyes, Rose took her scarf and tied it up over her head.

She walked toward the door with her precious gift in hand unable to look at Viola.

"Thank you, Miss Rose. He must be a worthy man."

"He's worth far more than you could ever know," she whispered as tears slipped down her face. Rose wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and braced herself for the cold walk home.


	4. Chapter 4

John had asked Jack to drop him off close to Wilf's house, as he wished to check on him and offer him relief from his ailment as soon as possible. He assured him that he could walk home from there when he was finished.

He could see a light through the window knowing Wilf was still awake. He knocked on the door and listened for a reply, not wanting him to have to get out of bed. A weak cough reached his ears.

"Wilf? It's John. I'm coming in."

John pushed the door open and stepped inside. Wilf was laying curled up in a blanket, his fire slowly dying out. "Miss me already?" Wilf answered, his voice thick and gravelly. "It must be a special occasion when I get see the doctor and his lovely Rose in the same day."

Wilf's chest seized up as he coughed painfully. "Been laying here since she tucked me in. No one's done that since my mum."

John smiled at the mention of Rose. He shouldn't be surprised that she was here, even though he'd told her to stay home and take it easy. She cared for Wilf like he was her own grandfather.

"Well, I can't make you tea or tuck you in like she can, but I can offer you something else."

John rifled through his bag until he came to the tin carrying the new ointment.

"Had to go to London today, and I was able to get this medicine that I think will help make you comfortable. This will go on your chest and help as an expectorant. It will make your coughs productive. It will also help you sleep."

John gestured to Wilf's shirt. "May I?"

Wilf nodded as he pulled the blanket down. John unbutton the top few buttons of Wilf's nightshirt. He took some of the ointment and rubbed in onto Wilf's chest.

"It smells like Christmas." Wilf whispered sleepily.

He was right. The clean smell of spruce mixed with lavender and chamomile, giving the room the smell of a wooded forest. As John finished up and buttoned up Wilf's shirt, he pulled the blanket back up. John added a couple logs to the stove to keep it warm enough throughout the night. He placed the ointment on the table and rested his hand on Wilf's shoulder.

"I'll be back to check on you tomorrow, Wilf."

After hearing no response John assumed he had fallen asleep. As he started to shut the door he hear Wilf whisper, "Happy Christmas."

John smiled as he called back, "Happy Christmas, Wilf. Get some rest."

* * *

As he walked down the lane toward their house he couldn't help but smile. Rose would be so surprised by his gift. He hurried toward the house, noticing puffs of smoke coming from the chimney. He figured she must still be awake, probably worrying over his return in the frigid night. John wondered at the lateness of the hour but could not be exact without his watch. He gathered by the light of the moon that it would be just a little past midnight. Christmas Day.

He eased the door open and stepped inside, taking off his boots and coat to dry. He looked over at the fire and found Rose sitting in a chair fast asleep. She must have drifted off soon after arriving home, as she still had her scarf tied around her head and had her day dress on. He frowned as he wondered what pressing matter could have had her out in this weather all day. Her feet were bare and he could smell the salve he had made the night before against her skin. Her foot sat propped up on a footstool, swollen and red. He hated leaving her alone when she was like this, but now that he was home he'd be sure to take care of her.

John knelt in front of her chair and traced her cheek with his fingers. He thought he could make out tear-tracks in the firelight but couldn't be sure.

"Rose," John whispered quietly. Her eyelids began to flutter and she looked at her surroundings in confusion before settling on his face, "Hello," he spoke before pressing a light kiss on her lips.

Rose smiled weakly. "Hello." Her voice thick with tiredness.

"Happy Christmas, love." John grinned madly as he grabbed her hands in his own. Rose smiled as she squeezed his hands in return.

"I have something for you," John announced excitedly.

"As do I." Rose responded with a shy smile.

John turned and grabbed his bag, rifling through it to find his precious gift. He took the box and placed it in Rose's hands. "There is nothing I could give you to properly express my love, Rose. I wish I could give you everything your heart desires. You deserve far more than this."

Rose looked at the package and wondered what John could have possibly been able to buy. She glanced at him as she lifted the top of the box. He was grinning away like he was Father Christmas, so excited to see her reaction. She laughed in return.

Rose couldn't believe her eyes when they fell upon the gift. It was the most exquisite set of hair combs she had ever seen. Fit for a queen, they were. Her fingers traced the delicate glass roses as tears fell from her eyes. She couldn't help the sob that ripped from her throat.

"What is it, love? Do you not like them?" John looked worried as he cradled her face in his hands.

"How were you ever able to afford these?" She asked as her eyes bore into his.

"Not that it matters, but I traded my pocket watch for them." He smiled as if to assure her that it was well worth it. "I've always clung so tightly to that timepiece, and I just thought that you deserved to be shown how special you are to me, how much more you mean to me than a silly old bauble."

"They're the most beautiful things I have ever seen." She responded as she looked desperately into his eyes.

John picked one up from the box. "Here love, let's see how they look."

Rose stood up and backed away from John.

"You don't understand," she sobbed, trying desperately to wipe away the river of tears streaming down her face.

"Understand, what?" John had no idea what was happening. Perhaps she was just upset at the thought that he had spent so much on her.

"I've done something so terrible, John." She lifted her hands to her scarf and untied it. She let the fabric fall to the ground and she stood still in silence before him, eyes trained on the ground. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Oh, Rose," he croaked, "What have you done?" His hands hovered above her head, as if touching it would burn him. He lightly placed his fingers on her scalp and ran them through what was left of her once lovely mane. The locks were soft and wavy, but nothing like the streams of gold he had grown accustomed to.

"I sold it," she whispered mournfully.

"Why on earth would you sell your hair!?" His voice rising in frustration.

Rose swallowed visibly before reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out a small cloth pouch. "I wanted to buy you a Christmas gift."

John looked at her tear-stained face before taking the gift from her hand. He pressed a light kiss to the palm after taking the parcel from her. No matter how angry he might be, he hated to make her cry.

He untied the strings on the pouch and emptied the contents into his hand. Inside was a chain that looked exactly like the one his father had lost so many years ago, the one that held his watch and kept it safe.

John grabbed Rose's face and held it in his hands. "My precious, girl." He kissed the top of her head.

Rose could feel John's tears as they fell upon her face, mixing with her own.

"What a right mess we are," he said as he drew her into a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

Rose looked up at him, not believing she was married to such a man, willing to give up his only prized possession for her.

John looked down at her, not believing he was married to such a woman, willing to give up the very thing she believed made her desirable in order to honor the family he so deeply missed.

John took the set of combs and the silver chain and laid them side by side on the mantle. A reminder to the both of them about sacrifice, beauty, and love.

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom wordlessly. Both changed into their night clothes and got under the covers. Rose lay on her back staring up at him as he propped himself up on his elbow and stared at her. Rose looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze, her shorn hair making her feel undesirable and uncertain.

"Rose? You know there is nothing you could ever do that would make you less beautiful to me, right?

She nodded but still looked away. He curled her short locks around his fingers as he began to kiss her face. He placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead. He then kissed each eyelid gently before moving on to her ears. As his lips brushed it he whispered, "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I never saw true beauty until this night."

Rose blushed at his words and whispered, "I love you."

She felt him smile as his pressed the next kiss to her neck. "And I love you, my precious Rose."

* * *

_"The magi, as you know, were wise men-wonderfully wise men-who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi."_

_(Excerpt from **Gift of the Magi** )_


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